About six months earlier, Harry had developed a keen interest in a girl in his House, one that might have threatened his aloof lifestyle if he hadn't handed out a threat of his own to stop gossiping tongues wagging.
This wasn't a romantic interest, mind you, but it would have been almost impossible to make that claim stick in a school where the rumour mill was as famous as it's most illustrious alumni. It seemed almost as if boys and girls weren't allowed to be friends with each other, not without at least one ulterior motive flying around with the raging hormones.
And this would have been the case with Harry, if he hadn't snapped the head off the rumour before it started.
It all began at the end of the previous school year, on the very last night before the students were due to return home. Harry, for the first time, was genuinely excited by this prospect. Mere days before, following a bizarre sequence of events and the clearing up of some very severe cases of mistaken identity, Harry had been reunited with his Godfather, Sirius Black, who had been wrongly accused of aiding in his parents' murder. Much emotion had flowed and the net result was that Harry agreed to live with his exonerated legal guardian, meaning he'd never have to endure the iron rule of his Dursley relatives ever again.
So on that last night of term, Harry actually joined in with the celebrations. That was to say he sat with the others and smiled a bit, rather than his usual tack of confining himself to the shadowiest corner and frowning at anyone who dared to speak to him. Harry was borderline enjoying himself, but that was until he spotted the girl over near the Common Room Noticeboard.
She was in the year below him and Harry didn't know her at all, though she was considered well-known amongst the students of the House, albeit for less than complimentary reasons. She was generally thought to be quirky and unusual, and for some reason this meant that other students regularly made fun of her. Harry didn't like this at all, but as he was gossiped about enough himself he had never found the courage to stand up for her.
That was until that night, when he learned just how far the 'teasing' went.
His attention was drawn to it by a conversation he overheard between Cho Chang and Marietta Edgecombe, two girls from the year above who were sitting on chairs just to his right. They were giggling and pointing over at the girl by the noticeboard, whispering lowly so that almost nobody could hear them.
"Up goes this year's lost property list!" Marietta was chortling, as the girl carefully tacked a colourful sign to the noticeboard. "That reminds me ... I've still got that charm bracelet in my bedside drawer. It'll be a shame to give it back."
"So, what have you lost this year, Loony?" Cho called over in false sweetness.
The girl turned her silvery, protuberant eyes to Cho. "Just these things."
Then she gestured to the sign that she'd just pinned up. Anger stirring, and under the pretence of refilling his goblet of pumpkin juice, Harry got up and moved to the noticeboard. He was stunned by what he saw on the multi-coloured poster.
"Have you really lost all these things?" Harry asked, gesturing at the list of more than a dozen items that were missing ... clothes, books, personal effects, each written in a different, sparkly colour ... and feeling a spike of pity as he read the heartfelt plea for their return written in swirly, silver ink at the bottom. His rage stirred as he read the words 'unicorn charm bracelet' about half way down the list, and he growled as Marietta's words echoed in his skull.
"Oh yes, but it's not as much as last year," the girl replied, sweetly.
"Your name's Luna, isn't it?" Harry asked. Luna Lovegood nodded back, seeming surprised that Harry Potter knew who she was. But, then again, she always wore a surprised expression, no matter what was going on. "If you don't mind me asking, how did you manage to lose all this stuff? And why are you only trying to find it now? It's a bit last minute."
"Oh, well, my things aren't really lost," Luna explained. "People take them, you see. They think I'm a bit odd, you know, and so they take my things. I don't mind sharing, but as it's the last night I really do need them back so I can pack."
"People take your things?" Harry hissed, anger roiling in his belly and competing with a wave of pity for the girl.
"Yes. Like I said, they think I'm odd."
"That's no excuse to take your stuff," Harry fumed. "Do you want a hand getting them all back?"
"Oh no, thank you," Luna beamed. "They'll turn up eventually. They did last year. I'd really like to find my bracelet, though. It was the last birthday present my Mum got for me before she died."
Harry felt a part of his heart break at the admission. "Your Mum died? I'm sorry. I never knew."
"That's alright. I never told you, so how would you? If you do find it, though ... my bracelet ... I'd be very grateful if you could get it back to me. It's very important to me."
Harry rolled his jaw angrily. "Wait here."
Then Harry marched over to Cho and Marietta, rage pounding in his temples.
"So, what's Loony lost this year?" Cho skittered.
"Watch your mouth, Chang!" Harry spat. "And if you call her that one more time I'm going to hex the word 'Loony' across your stupid face in the biggest, most pus-filled permanent pimples I can conjure! That goes for the lot of you."
"Cool it, Harry, we didn't know she was your girlfriend," Marietta chuckled.
Harry's eyes flashed dangerously at her. "And you can just shut your mouth, and all! Luna is not my girlfriend, and anyone else who says that is going to have a nasty run-in with the end of my wand. But you, you nasty hag, can just march right upstairs and bring me that bracelet you were just bragging about storing in your bedside cabinet.
"You'll do it right now, tonight, in the next five minutes. If you aren't back by that time, I'm going straight to Flitwick and telling him what a dirty, stinking thief you are. I really don't think you want him sending you home to your parents with a Howler like that in your pockets, do you?"
"You wouldn't!"
"Are you testing me? Four minutes thirty and counting."
Marietta squeaked and jumped up, before practically flying to the girls' dormitory. She was back less than a minute later, when she bitterly thrust the pretty charm bracelet into Harry's hand.
"There! Take it," Marietta sniped. "Just don't go to Flitwick. My parents would kill me. I'm sorry."
"It isn't me you need to apologise to," Harry scythed. "But I'll leave it up to Luna to decide if she accepts it or not."
And then Harry presented the bracelet back to a beaming Luna, before skulking back to his usual corner to fume in silence. He later learned that all of Luna's missing things miraculously turned up on her bed within the hour, though he never did find out if Marietta had apologised to her or not.
But after that Luna was never shy of talking to Harry, and he never told her to go away when she tried, which was something of an anomaly where Harry Potter was concerned. They weren't friends as such, but common acquaintances was as likely as anyone could hope to get with Harry.
Until all this Penpal Club business hit the horizon, of course.
Harry spent a lot of time over the first few days of the next week mulling it all over in his mind. He was sat in Charms on Monday afternoon, where he was partnered with Sally-Anne Perks from Hufflepuff and was trying not to use the Banishing Charm they were practising to push her stool a bit further away from his, as her perfume was bothering his nostrils. After getting the hang of the Charm quickly, Harry found his mind drifting to the complexity of the Penny Black spell that Hermione Granger had told him she had invented, and he couldn't help but be impressed.
Fancy inventing your own spell? That was quite an achievement, and Hermione was only his age! Yes, that was very impressive. Harry was actually a bit jealous, and wondered what sort of spell he would invent, if he was ever going to. He felt certain that it wouldn't be for something so honourable and noble as helping lonely students, though, and he was cross with himself at his own self-centeredness a moment. If that was really an indicator of Hermione's true character then maybe an arrogant, introverted boy like Harry didn't deserve to get to know her at all.
But then there was this little thing that pleased his vanity, that someone as nice and clever as that wanted to get to know him. That was the strangest thing about all this. People always wanted to know all about him, that was nothing new, and he snapped at people more for that reason than any other. No-one would get to know the boy behind the legend and that was that as far as Harry was concerned.
So why had he agreed to let Hermione Granger have a try at succeeding where everyone else had failed so badly?
He had come to decide that it was because it was so unexpected. The whole little exchange had been. Up till that point on Saturday morning, Harry barely knew Hermione beyond that she was very clever and never seemed to have any spare quill nibs on her. That was about it, and Harry saw no reason to delve any further into the matter. The whole 'troll thing' from First Year might have been a connection to explore, but it happened as much by chance as design and didn't seem the sort of foundation on which to base a friendship.
But then Hermione had pretty much admitted to him that she was lonely and friendless, so much so that she started a Club to help others in the same situation. Harry had found that the admission stung him unexpectedly. He knew a bit of that feeling, even though he had purposefully created it around himself, and he didn't wish it on anyone, especially if that person was clearly as kind and thoughtful as someone like Hermione was. She'd taken it upon herself to help others who might be suffering as she, and Harry was moved by that.
And he realised then that he'd judged Hermione without even bothering to learn anything about her personality at all. He might have suspected and invented all manner of things about her, but this action showed him just how wrong he might have been about all that. Being brainy and bookish didn't necessarily mean that a person was cold and unempathetic, though until he'd seen the opposite for himself, Harry had to admit that he might have thought such things about Hermione Granger.
In that moment, Harry caught a reflection of his own life in his mind's eye. People judged him without knowing the truth of who he was, and he hotly chided them for it. But here he was, doing the exact same thing to Hermione Granger. Until that moment, he'd never truly known himself.
So the possibility of making up this shameful disrespect to her, through the simple act of being her penpal, was one that Harry found unexpectedly pleasing. The idea of talking to her, about things he'd not spoken about with anyone else, was sort of liberating. Harry was almost too eager, and knew that his first letters were in danger of being rambling confessions, if he wasn't careful to start things slow. He didn't want to scare her off after all.
Though Harry found that he was also curious to know about her. Where had her sharp intellect come from? Where was she from? He knew she was Muggleborn, so what did her parents think about having a witch for a daughter? There were lots of things he was suddenly keen to learn about her, and he found himself impatiently checking his pigeon hole and the noticeboards for developments in the Penpal Club scheme.
On Wednesday morning, all became clear, even though it started off suspiciously. At breakfast, Luna seemed to be loitering around at Harry's end of the Ravenclaw table looking sheepish and restless. Lisa and Mandy, who were on a constant and futile quest to make Harry more sociable, had given up for the day and gone off to get ready for their first lesson. Luna sat down nearby as soon as they were gone.
"Is something the matter?" Harry asked after a good minute of silence, which wasn't like Luna at all. "Has someone being giving you a hard time? Do you need me to have a word with them?"
"Oh no, it's nothing like that," Luna mumbled. It was clear that she was definitely fretting about something though.
"Then what is it?" Harry pushed.
"I need to have a word with you," Luna confessed. "I've done something and I hope you wont be cross with me for it."
Harry tensed on instinct but tried to stay calm. "What is it? What have you done?"
"Well, I was up at the Owlery last night," Luna began. "I've signed up to the Penpal Club, you see, as I think it'll be quite nice to have someone to talk to."
Harry felt that usual surge of pity and awkwardness that Luna's forthright style of talking always generated in him, and then she continued.
"Anyway, I decided not to use my pigeon hole to get letters. The girls in my dorm will probably think it's funny to break in and steal them if I do, so I use a post hole at the owlery instead. I did a Charm on my pigeon hole so that it whistles me a little tune when I get a letter. And it whistled last night, which is why I was in the owlery."
Harry frowned at that. "Wait a minute ... are you already getting letters then? I ... I thought it hadn't started yet."
"It only started on Sunday," Luna confessed. "Why, Harry? Do you know anyone else who has signed up? No-one wants to admit that they have, but I've seen lots of people reading in private over the last few days, so they must be part of it."
Harry quirked a look at her. It seemed inconceivable to Luna that Harry might have signed up for this himself, and he saw no need to correct her.
"No, I don't know anyone," Harry replied evasively. "But why would you think I'd be cross with you for signing up? I think it's a good idea, you know."
"So do I!" Luna beamed. "And my penpal seems ever so nice, whoever they are. We've exchanged three letters already. But it's not for signing up that I think you might be cross with me."
"What is it then?"
"Well, when I was up in the owlery, I bumped into that Hermione Granger girl from Gryffindor."
Harry didn't know why, but the mere mention of Hermione's name caused him to sit up straight and focus his attention.
"Okay. And what happened?"
"It seemed like she was waiting for someone from Ravenclaw to come in," Luna went on. "She was trying to call an owl to her ... to tell the truth, your owl. But she didn't know her name, so she wouldn't come. And so she asked me, and I told her. Then I wasn't sure if I was supposed to tell her or not, but I already had, so the owl went to her and she gave her a letter and she flew away with it. Then Hermione Granger went away too, and I've been worried that I did the wrong thing and that you'll be cross with me for it."
Harry smiled as Luna drew breath. His heart was thrumming gently under his robes and he couldn't say why. But it filled him with a warm, cozy feeling as his porridge went down nicely.
"It's fine, Luna, I don't mind that you told her," Harry soothed her. Luna's shoulders visibly sagged with the relief. "Hedwig is a good judge of character, so if she went to Hermione she must like her, which means I'll probably end up liking her too. So you can stop worrying."
"Oh, that's wonderful!" Luna beamed. "That means I can finally go and read my letter. I was so worried I haven't even opened it yet! Bye, Harry!"
Then she jumped up and scurried away like a mouse who'd just stolen a block of cheese. Harry grinned to himself as he watched her go. Then his eyes fell on the far side of the room, over the crowded Hufflepuff table, right to the Gryffindor benches against the far wall. He searched along them until he found the head of Hermione Granger, wondering what on Earth she could have wanted with his owl.
She was sat by herself, which Harry found oddly annoyed him, and a book was propped open against her large milk jug. There was a little crinkle of concentration between her eyebrows as she read, that Harry guessed was a regular resident there. She seemed utterly oblivious to the world around her, and blissfully unaware that Harry Potter was staring so blatantly at her from across the room.
It was weird, to catch himself doing that, but he found it hard to stop without serious effort. Luckily, there was a great whooshing sound just then as the morning post owls flew in. Harry wasn't expecting anything; Sirius had sent him sweets just the day before, and if the Dursleys ever volunteered to send him post it would have been one of the signs of the apocalypse in Harry's book.
So it was something of a surprise to spot Hedwig at the head of the flock. She soared around and gracefully landed on Harry's shoulder, standing proudly as the other owls missed their targets and knocked over bowls of fruit and pitchers of lemon juice. She had a letter tied neatly to her foot, and Harry took it off in deep curiosity.
The envelope contained only his name, written in delicate calligraphy. But there, carefully stuck to the top right-hand corner, was a little stamp ... a Penny Black. The sight of it caused something to coil and uncoil in Harry's belly. It was a very excited thing, whatever it was, though Harry wished it wouldn't wriggle about so much.
Harry's eyes snapped up once again and this time, to his immense surprise, he found Hermione Granger looking directly at him. Harry caught her eye and she smiled shyly, before flicking her gaze away as if he'd caught her in the act. He had no idea if she had been looking at him before, but she seemed to know exactly where he was sat as the owls delivered their cargoes.
Then Harry suddenly understood ... this was why Hermione had been looking for Hedwig! This is why he'd yet to receive any special stamps or letter paper from her! She'd started their penpal relationship by asking his owl to be her courier ... and Hedwig had agreed. That said enough for Harry to be very pleased about Hermione doing it.
It was odd, but the very personal nature of this made Harry very covetous of it.
The bell sounded then, indicating fifteen minutes before lessons started. There was a cacophony, as students wolfed down final slices of toast and slurped on lukewarm tea, and a mass exodus filed up to leave the Great Hall. Without meaning to, Harry and Hermione reached the door at the same time, but from opposite directions. Harry stopped for her to go first, so Hermione ducked her head, hugged her book to her chest and scurried past without a word, though she was blushed red right up to her sparkling eyes and smiling to herself.
Harry watched a moment as Hermione made her way down to the dungeons, then he headed off to the Arithmancy Classrooms on the Fifth Floor, not noticing that she'd looked over her shoulder at him just before he disappeared out of sight. Both of their thoughts were fixed on the little copse at the edge of the Forbidden Forest. Hermione didn't know that's what she was thinking about, but it was the only place on Harry's mind.
After all, it was where, during the morning break, Harry intended to retreat to read his first letter from her, and the anticipation for them both would guarantee that the time till then couldn't pass quickly enough.